Pendulum Problems
by Dragon Silhouette
Summary: AU - Clotho and Lachesis watched, horrified, as Atropos tripped over an inconveinent anvil and crashed against a grandfather clock. She moaned, shaking shards of glass out of her hair and exclaimed, "Oh, Hades, I just broke a Clock of Destiny, didn't I? Whose is it?" Clotho peered at the broken pendulum and sighed. "Perseus Jackson's." ADOPTED by percabeth4ever1999


**Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and the Olympians belong to Rick Riordan.**

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**Chapter 1: Atropos Screws Up the Future**

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The Fates relaxed in their penthouse apartment in New York.

It was a modest apartment. The floor was swathed in a plush red carpet that felt like one was walking through fur when barefoot. The walls were covered in soft pink diamond-pattered wallpaper. Expensive furniture dotted the room with the expertise of a professional interior designer.

It was very modest.

However, the most important feature of the penthouse living room was the row of grandfather clocks quietly ticking away near the walls of the balcony. These weren't ordinary clocks, but more on that later.

Just an hour ago, they had finished deciding the lives of nine hundred and thirty-six people in three hours. Clotho had been moaning about her stiff fingers and the possibility of arthritis (which was impossible, because they were the Fates, and they were immortal). It was then that Lachesis decided they needed a well-deserved vacation. Of course, Clotho and Atropos agreed without complaint. It had nothing to do with the fact that Lachesis wouldn't stop whining until they agreed to her proposal. After all, the well-being of the all-important Fates was more essential than the destinies of a couple hundred thousand beings. Besides, knitting behind a fruit stand all day can be really tiring, no matter what other people say.

Anyway.

Clotho was rocking back and forth in the balcony, humming an old tune to herself while admiring the stunning view of nighttime New York. Lachesis was reading a Greek book that had seen better days in an armchair. Her wrinkly hands flipped to another page, and she laughed softly. Finally, Atropos was carrying a fresh batch of muffins, the warm scent of blueberries filling the large living room. She shuffled from the kitchen and offered a muffin to Lachesis, who accepted. Next, she made for the direction of the veranda.

In her old age, she didn't see the iron anvil that was randomly positioned on the carpeted floor. Nor did she hear the belated warnings from her sisters.

Clotho and Lachesis watched, horrified, as Atropos tripped over the inconvenient anvil and crashed against one of the aforementioned grandfather clocks. The muffins went flying out the balcony. Her ancient head shattered the glass and cracked the wooden pendulum that had only been innocently ticking five seconds ago. It really didn't deserve to get busted by an old immortal woman; it was only doing its job.

The two remaining Fates rushed (hobbled) to her aid. They bent down and pulled Atropos's head from inside the clock. She moaned, shaking shards of glass off her hair and exclaimed, "Oh, Hades, I just broke a Clock of Destiny, didn't I? Whose is it?"

Clotho peered at the broken pendulum and sighed. ". . . Perseus Jackson's."

"Oh . . ." Lachesis paled. "You mean . . ."

Clotho nodded grimly. Atropos pulled herself up, stood with her sisters, and stared anxiously at the clock. The hands had paused, and then a humming sound came from the clockwork, as if it was contemplating how to work with its pendulum broken beyond repair. The Fates watched as the hands suddenly came alive again, but it was spinning counterclockwise, gaining speed every second. Soon, the hands were only a grey blur circulating the face. A minute later, the spinning stopped abruptly. The hands paused at six thirty-seven – the exact time of the day. The Fates uttered cries of dismay when the hands began to move like it hadn't just had a major part of its clockwork ruined by an old lady.

"No," Atropos whispered. "No!"

"Can it be fixed?!" Lachesis asked frantically. "It must be fixed! Maybe we can send it to Hephaestus – "

"It cannot be fixed," Clotho stated, still gazing at the clock. "Perseus Jackson's destiny has veered to another path, and not even we can do anything about it."

Atropos buried her face in her hands. "Oh, no, no, no . . ."

"But the situation can still be salvaged!" Clotho declared. She trudged to the basket containing blue yarn and started knitting Perseus Jackson's Thread of Life. "Come, sisters. We have a life to weave."

Now, the reason why the very powerful Fates were freaking over a broken clock is because it wasn't just an ordinary clock. No, it was _far_ from ordinary. It was a Clock of Destiny.

There had been always people whose destinies affected the future of the world. The Fates always carefully planned out their futures to make sure the world wouldn't just break apart because one of these important people suddenly died in a car crash. Therefore, to cement their destinies, they had strengthened their Threads of Life by weaving its properties into clocks – which they named Clocks of Destinies. The solidity of the future in a clock was strong – so strong, only a powerful force can change the decided destiny in the clock.

A powerful force like one of the Fates tripping over an anvil.

And just like that, the future of Perseus "Percy" Jackson was altered.

"We are so screwed," Lachesis muttered.

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Sally Jackson sprinted to her car, all the while carrying one-year-old Percy Jackson in her arms.

She opened the doors, strapped her child to the baby seat, and got into the front. She jammed her key into the ignition and all but stomped on the gas. The car peeled out of the driveway and into a dark, rainy Manhattan city.

Behind her, vicious, snarling hellhounds pounded the streets. A brawny Cyclopes and the legendary Minotaur ran in a ragged group. All of them were following the Furies, who were chasing the battered blue car speeding towards the direction of Camp Half-Blood.

Sally tried not to think of them.

She looked momentarily at her son, who as amazingly sleeping through all this. She couldn't help but feel a burst of love for the soundly snoozing boy. He looked just like his father . . .

_SCREECH!_

Her car swerved to the side. She risked a glance at her rearview mirror and inwardly winced as the Fury slashed another claw into the rear. She increased her speed. _C'mon, c'mon, only a mile left . . ._

She cried as sharp claws pushed against the roof. One of the Furies' talons – Alecto? – punctured the metal and ripped it off. Desperately, she turned sharply to the left and sighed in relief when she heard a furious screech and an accompanying thud. She rounded off the last corner and stepped on the breaks. She released Percy from his seat, got out of the car, and ran like Hades.

As she raced for the camp borders, she looked behind her and saw, with a sinking heart, the monsters gaining. She willed her legs to run faster.

With a triumphant howl, one of the hellhounds leaped, intending to pin her down. The mother jumped away, still carefully shielding Percy with her arms. She rolled to her feet and came up still running. She assessed the distance between her, the monsters, and the border and stifled a sob. _I won't make it!_ Sally took one look at her son, who was smiling innocently as if nothing was happening, and let out a growl of determination. _You _will_ live to see another day, Percy – Hades won't stop me!_

"Die, honey!"

A hot, searing pain landed on her back. She screamed in pain as the claws dug themselves deeper into her skin. She fell to her knees and hugger her precious crying bundle to her chest. She reached for a decently-sized rock with her right hand and blindly struck the monster behind her.

The Cyclopes rumbled and launched himself at the struggling female. He crushed her right arm with his vice-like grip and roared in delight. Another set of talons latched itself on her back.

"Get . . . off . . . me!" Sally twisted and slammed the Furies onto a nearby tree. She ignored her broken arm and, with the strength of a mother protecting her child, head-butted the Cyclopes. He grunted and staggered back, holding his sore forehead. Sally got to her feet and continued up the hill, yelling for help.

"Forgot about me, hm?" An ugly hag flew in front of her, grinning sickeningly. "Thought you could escape us?"

Sally didn't bother answering. She tackled the Fury to the ground like one of those professional football players. The Fury was too surprised to do anything other than emit a high-pitched squawk.

Sally staggered to the top of the hill and called out, "Chiron! Please! Anyone?!" She was answered by extremely faint galloping hooves, along with the metallic clanks of armour and weapons.

She smiled weakly and turned back to the monsters. She whispered to her crying son, "Shh. They're almost here. Soon, you will be safe." She bent down to pick up a sharp rock and threw it at a confused Fury. It hit her on the forehead, making her even more confused.

Sally swayed on her feet. She was losing too much blood. Her injuries were weeping rivulets of warm blood down her back. Her clothes and hair were plastered to her skin, and there was a very annoying itch on her nose. Despite all these, she straightened (and then winced) when she saw the black mass running up the hill.

Finally, the hellhounds had caught up.

Knowing that there was no way the reinforcements would arrive on time, she kissed Percy and gently set him on the ground, whispering a final farewell. Next, she picked up more sticks and sharp rocks. If she was going to die, then she might as well go down fighting to protect her child. She threw her first rock at the lead hellhound, which had no effect. Before she could throw a second projective, however, a burst of agony ran up her spine and into her limbs. She dropped to her knees, both hands reaching for her mauled back. Gasping, Sally crawled to Percy and held him. She couldn't stand up, and she could barely move her arms – her spine must have been damaged . . .

"Attack!" a voice yelled.

Sally's knees gave out, and she fell face-first to the muddy ground. Her eyes were closing, and the fires on her back were numbing . . .

The last thing she saw was the kind face of a man – attached to a horse's body.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**This has been in planning for more than two months now (which is why I posted this now - it's been sitting in my USB _far_ too long). Despite that, I only planned this out until Chapter 3. So, I won't be updating for a while (think _months_). I won't start on the second chapter until I have at least seven chapters planned out in detail. Besides, this is more of a side project (a _really_ long side project), so it won't be the story that I will focus on the most (that honour belongs to White Magic and With a Bloody Background). I wrote the plot to get rid of writer's block, and because I thought it might be interesting and a challenge. Plus, it might bring my dormant PJO fangirl back to life.**

**Okay, I'm going to shut up now.**


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